The Foeseeker
by ShadowSong StarGlaive The Wolf
Summary: Ranguvar Foeseeker always hated vermin, and the ship Seajaw was no exception to her wrath when it attacks her tribe's island...
1. Ranguvar Foeseeker

A/N Okay, I hope you understand by now my favorite series in the world is Redwall, so I am forever to condemned to writing Redwall fanfictions. And that my favorite character in Redwall is Ranguvar Foeseeker. In fact, in my Ruddaring Sunsets fic, one otter strongly resembles her. But here I am. Read the ficcy and review!  
  
Disclaimer: Like all my Redwall stories, I own them, not Redwall.  
  
(Island, two days before Vilu Daskar captured the tribe of squirrels)  
  
Ranguvar Foeseeker sped up a tree, her tiny sharp claws scrabbling up the coconut tree with ease. She looked down, and saw her sister, a tiny small black squirrel that looked as if the shrunk twin of Ranguvar. Waving, she yelled, "Oi, Sieka, coming down!"  
  
She hurled a coconut down, and it thunked down to the ground next to Sieka. The tiny squirrel, about twice with size of the coconut, wrapped her small arms around the nut and lifted, then fell back, laughing. Ranguvar tossed down two more, and a few leaves to cook with.  
  
The little squirrel squeaked and rolled over, swathing herself in the leaves, giggling, "Lookie, Rang, lookie!" she squealed.  
  
Ranguvar smiled and swung down the tree. She was sturdily built, with unusual ebon fur and bright eyes. Many scars littered her body, for she was the protector of the tribe from Sea Rogues and seabirds.  
  
The strong black squirrel lifted the three coconuts with ease and carried them off to the village, along with her younger sister carrying the dock leaves.  
  
(At the village)  
  
An old, silvery squirrel was considered the elder of the tribe and the wisest. He looked at the pair of dark furred squirrels carrying food. He greeted them with open paws. "Hello, young 'uns. Ranguvar, Sieka, let me take one."  
  
Ranguvar lifted her higher. "No, Father, you can't easily carry these; I can."  
  
He looked over the burly squirrel, and the minuscule one next to her. Both were orphans, and he had adopted them. Sieka was a timid, shy little squirrel; Ranguvar, on the other hand, was a growing warrior, from her tough stature to her keen eyes.  
  
Ranguvar carried the coconuts as far as pile of fruit and island plants and dropped the victuals in the pile. "There, that should keep a few more beasts fed."  
  
A sharp shriek sounded from the other side of the island, followed by a screech from some kind of bird. Ranguvar grabbed the nearest weapon: a gnarled stick that was knobby on the one end and sharp on the other. The warrior squirrel ran towards the cry, leaping through the trees, and whipping past the treehouses the native squirrels lived in.  
  
Ranguvar arrived at the scene soon, almost two minutes from one end of the island to the other. What she saw made her blood rise.  
  
A squirrelbabe was cornered against a tree trunk, menaced by a huge seagull with gray-tipped wings and a fierce coral-tinted beak. It stalked near the child, screeching with a threat in the shriek.  
  
Ranguvar hurled herself at the bird, wielding the stick like a staff. Speeding past the bird's head, she whacked down with the pole, stunning the gull. It shook its head for a minute, trying to forget the pain. Ranguvar landed neatly on its back and whapped down harder on the base of the neck.  
  
The seagull squawked angrily and flapped its wings. The black squirrel held onto the gull, even though it was rising. Switching to the sharp end of the stick, she thrust it into the neck.  
  
The bird cawed its last caw, a high pitched scream. Ranguvar jumped down from the bird and quickly snatched up the babe. Casting one last look at the bird, she yelled, "And don't you forget, I'm the Foeseeker!"  
  
(At the village)  
  
Ranguvar came back, the frightened squirrelbabe in her strong paws. She gave it to the parents of the squirrel, whom she knew well. She was about to go back to her drey with Sieka when she was tapped on the shoulder by an old, frail paw.  
  
The silvery old squirrel smiled back at her. "Ah, Ranguvar. I heard you fought again earlier."  
  
Ranguvar nodded, answering, "Yes, a seagull was going to eat little Fiera." Then her face grew hard. "I'm going to look for its nest, to slay the whole flock!"  
  
The old squirrel, known as Sagueris, shook his head, "No, 'tis a fool's errand. Even such a warrior as you cannot do such a thing!"  
  
Ranguvar said stoutly, "I will do so, and die trying!"  
  
(At the high cliffs)  
  
Ranguvar was hidden in the bushes near the nest of the same flock of seagulls the one that Ranguvar had slain had come from. Clasping a sharpened stick, she waited until the seagulls had calmed down. Then she struck.  
  
Ranguvar Foeseeker launched into the middle of the fray of seagull, landing thwacks with her staff and kicking out with her footpaws. Seagulls pecked and bit at her, with no avail. Ranguvar yelled her battle cries, still hitting out with her pole and clawing with her other paw.  
  
"Yahhh! I'm the Foeseeker! Come on, I'm only one squirrel! Yayalahoooo!" She landed strikes, and with her natural skill and agility, avoided offensive ones.  
  
Gulls screeched and squawked furiously, but were slain. The black squirrel's eyes were tinted scarlet with the Bloodwrath. No gull stood in her way.  
  
"Yaaaah!" Ranguvar stabbed and kicked out at a particularly nasty gull, catching it in its beige beak. It screeched, and collapsed.  
  
Soon after, most the gulls were slain, the rest having flown off. Ranguvar looked around grimly, the red mist fading from her keen eyes. Pawing at her scratches and peck wounds, she slowly walked back to camp.  
  
(End Chapter One)  
  
A/N It has taken me three days to write this chapter. No, I was not staring at the computer for three days. I am on vacation and brought my laptop along, and have been writing in the hotel rooms and cabins. I was (because I am posting at home, writing in a cabin) at Silver Dollar City. It is amazing there. I bought a lot of rocks. But that's kinda irrelevant now. I didn't get to write recently because I've stayed up past 12 these last few nights. Oh well. Please read and review! 


	2. The Seajaw

  
  
A/N 'Ello! Didja like the last chapter? I ended it abruptly, I know, but ALL my chapters end up hastily. Some time or another.  
  
I bought more rocks at Silver Dollar City. A little bottle of moonstone, a little bottle of blue topaz, two shards of blue and purple agate, and a hematite necklace. I love them all. Ok, ignore all this stuff and read the chapter.  
  
(Begin Chapter Two)  
  
Ranguvar arrived at camp, her wounds sore and bleeding sluggishly. She stumbled into the village, the other squirrels looking at her with questions hovering on their lips. But it was obvious that they choose not to speak.  
  
Sagueris spotted the injured ebon squirrel, and sped to her, his swiftness defying his age. He pawed at a gash on her shoulder, shining through her black fur. "My daughter, you truly didn't-"  
  
Ranguvar retorted, "I slew the most of that seagull flock, and I will find the rest, injuries or not!" She stamped off towards her drey.  
  
Sagueris almost followed, then hung back. He looked at his paw, shimmering crimson. He looked at the warrior squirrel who was walking home. Staring up at the sky, he asked, "The warrior inside will let loose soon, and when it does, I would not like to own the foe's paws!"  
  
(The next morning)  
  
Ranguvar awoke, her wounds burning. She lay in her nest of leaves and twigs, dry blood crusting at her cuts and bruises that faded into a light purple and yellow. The nest was in a high tree the had three wide branches that spread out evenly. It supported Ranguvar and her little sister easily.  
  
A soft tapping at the warrior squirrel's footpaws stirred her, and she looked down, curling her neck.  
  
Sieka was there, rapping at her older sister's paws with her tiny ones. "C'mn, Rang, c'mn!"  
  
Ranguvar shook her sister off with gentleness in her movements. "What is it, Sieka?"  
  
Sieka rolled onto the middle branch, giggling. "Saguer wanted you at d'shore, Rang!"  
  
Ranguvar rolled over and stuck her head in the sweet smelling leaves and sticks that served as a mattress. "I'm coming, Sieka. Go to eat breakfast with Fiera and her parents."  
  
Sieka bounded skillfully out of the tree with natural agility. Ranguvar looked at her for a minute, then vaulted out of her drey after her.  
  
(Later)  
  
Ranguvar came to the shore, her scars smarting less as she walked more. Sagueris was there, and welcomed her with open paws.  
  
"Ah, Ranguvar, I sent Sieka to wake you. You see, I spotted a ship earlier, but thought it was an honest merchant trader, so I let it pass without warning you."  
  
Ranguvar mulled over this, saying her thoughts aloud. "Well, it could just be what you said, an honest merchant trader. But it could also be a stolen ship with Sea Rouges on it!"  
  
Sagueris nodded. "Yes, I thought that too. What do you think we should do?"  
  
Ranguvar quickly answered, "Stay out of view, and watch the beaches, both of them!"  
  
(Aboard the ship Seajaw)  
  
Sliceclaw Scarkisk the ferret ruled the ship Seajaw, and was a cruel and dishonest beast. His light gray fur and striped claws were his trademarks, as was his whip with a nearly weightless blade on the tip. Sliceclaw's clothes were that of a true corsair- tattered rags with many patches. Sliceclaw was covered in tattoos and had five earrings, three on one ear and two on the other.  
  
The ferret stared out to sea, the breezes whipping his face. Glaring down at the side of the ship from where he stood, he grimaced. His Sea Rouges had not been able to scrap off the name off the ship that its original owners had painted on, nor the paint that made the ship look like it was a mercantile vessel. Once they reached the island, they would find some rocks and scrub off the paint and make it look like a real corsair craft. He thought he had seen movement on the island, and smoke from fires. He could take them prisoners, and make them oarslaves. Any oarslaves is better then rowing yourself, he thought. They would row until they were weak and would die. That is, after they managed to put in oarports. He did only have a score of crewmates because so many were lost in the sinking of his other ship.  
  
"Ahoy, Cap'n! We're nearing land, wot now?" A lean rat with a patch over his eye waved for the captain's attention.  
  
Sliceclaw nodded thoughtfully. "Well then, Scobs, git down onto deck and take 'er bow east."  
  
Scobs descended from the crow's nest, and took the wheel. Spinning it bow east, he called up to the ferret on second deck, "That good, Cap'n?"  
  
Sliceclaw nodded, still staring at the island. "Aye, Scobs. Keep 'er there, tie it with the rope there, and alert the rest of the crew."  
  
The rat did as he was bid.  
  
(Later on the Seajaw)  
  
Sliceclaw's crew lined up, vermin all. Stoats, foxes, ferrets, rats, and weasels all dressed in Sea Rouge gear and armed with cutlasses, daggers, whips, swords, knives, strangling nooses, hooks, and more. Tattooed, scarred, and grim faced, they were true Sea Rouges.  
  
Sliceclaw patrolled the deck, observing them with keen, dark eyes. Pointing at a stoat armed with two swords, her asked swiftly, "When do we attack, Grukle?"  
  
Grukle replied, "Near 'igh noon, Cap'n, when youse said so!"  
  
Sliceclaw patted the stoat, "Aye, mates, 'igh noon, when everybeast on that island ain't ready!"  
  
Grukle grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "Aye, Cap'n!"  
  
(End Chapter Two)  
  
A/N Ohh, pretty topaz... Oops! Right, the author's note.  
  
This is probably going to be a four chapter story. I might need to refer to the book for information, but guess what, I left it at home, miles away. Ah well, I can try to remember it. Please review! 


	3. Battle!

A/N It seems every time I walk into a hotel room since the second night I've been at Silver Dollar City, I write. Usually a page or two, but last time I wrote a whole chapter, four pages. Of course, some writers on ff.net write 20 page chapters on a regular basis, and once, a writer I read wrote a forty page chapter! So, four pages isn't much, but it is what I write.  
  
Oh well, ignore me and read the story. (The mosquitoes here a sooo annoying! Sorry, had to say that...)  
  
(Chapter Three)  
  
Sliceclaw warily watched the island from second deck. He was sure that he had seen fire smoke on the island, but there was none. He stared out at the leafy isle, almost as if expecting it to leap out and attack his newfound ship. The volcano on the island stood out like a giant.  
  
"Ahoy, Captain, we does we attack?" A weasel with matted fur and grimy clothes called up to the Sliceclaw. "We thinks that those beasts on the island knew we wuz comin."  
  
Sliceclaw rolled his dark eyes and walked down to second deck, cuffing the weasel on the ear. "What do you think, deadhead? They ain't the stupidest of beasts, this 'ere ship stands out like a bug on a plate of vittles!"  
  
The weasel was not the brightest of the crew of the Seajaw. "Er, er, wot does all that means, Cap'n?"  
  
Sliceclaw clouted the weasel harder, this time on his forehead. "It means was wuz seen, blockbrains!" The ferret captain became bored of his crewmate and unhooked his whip from his back and lashed out onto the unfortunate weasel's ear. The thin blade snaked across and thrashed the grubby audile of the beast.  
  
"Ouch! Mercy, Cap'n, mercy!" squealed the helpless weasel, flailing about like a rope in the wind.  
  
Sliceclaw Scarkisk stopped the flaying and turned away, yelling, "All beasts, furl sails, and no slacking or youse will all feel my whip!"  
  
The crew of murderers, seascum and thieves did as they were told.  
  
(On the island)  
  
Ranguvar sharpened a few more sticks to make improvised lances. Tossing away a fresh made lance, she honed a driftwood branch with a shard of obsidian from the rocky outcrops around the mountain on the island. Hacking away at the cane, she pitched it over her scarred and bandaged shoulder, and picked up another one from a pile of driftwood. She did not want to be attacked undefended by the ship, if it did carry Sea Rogues.  
  
"Here's more, Rang!" Sieka chucked two more rough poles at the pile of driftwood near her sister.  
  
Ranguvar picked up the pair of sticks, she looked at them with admiration. "These are good and tough, Sieka. Can you find more of these?"  
  
Sieka ran off, bushy tail waving like a banner against the cerulean water. Ranguvar selected a piece of long, dark driftwood and started carving a tip on it.  
  
(Two hours later on the island)  
  
Ranguvar gripped her rock that she had been sharpening the poles with in her paw, looking at the lances. They were makeshift and some more like clubs than javelins, but were weapons all the same. She threw the rock into the sea, watching it splash into the shallows.  
  
"Rang! Rang! Big ship comin!" Sieka ran towards her sister, fright in her small voice. "Whatta we do now, Rang?"  
  
Ranguvar pointed towards their drey. "Go there, and stay there until I say to come out. Go now!"  
  
Sieka ran off again, going to the tree. Ranguvar grimly picked up a rather sharp lance with knobby bumps along it, good for gripping during battle.  
  
"Hoi, Ranguvar! Can we help?" A group of squirrels, numbering about half a score, came up to the black squirrel. "We're strong, we can help a bit."  
  
Ranguvar nodded. "Take a lance, and if you can, wield a club. Got plenty of rocks about to sling."  
  
A dusty brown squirrel with hefty looking paws picked up a clubs and swung it around. He nodded. "I like the feel of this weapon. I shall use it in battle!"  
  
Ranguvar agreed. "Battle will come, and the foebeasts will not survive!"  
  
Later Ranguvar, the group of squirrels, and plus a few more older ones from the village, were hiding behind the large rocks at the shore, watching the ship Seajaw coming closer with every breeze.  
  
(Aboard the Seajaw)  
  
Sliceclaw tested his whip with his claws, feeling the leaf-thin blade with his grimy nails. "Righto, mates, we're gonna go in, then out, find some wood to fix up this vessel, and-"  
  
"Cap'n, why can't we justs make the slaves do it?"  
  
Sliceclaw glared at the small and rather dull searat that had spoken. "Well, if there ain't any slaves to be taken, we just have to do it ourselves then, mate!" He flicked out with his whip and caught the unlucky rat in the snout. He yelped and clawed at his muzzle with obvious pain.  
  
No more arguments came after that on the Seajaw.  
  
(On the island)  
  
Ranguvar lay in wait, her paws gripping the lance, making clawmarks in the wood.  
  
(Aboard the Seajaw)  
  
"Cap'n, do we beach or loose anchor?" asked a stout, gray rat armed with a cutlass.  
  
"Beach 'er." Sliceclaw's voice was flat and had no emotion to it. "Lay low in the ship until I says so."  
  
The rat scurried off, and whispered to his companions to help him with the beaching of the Seajaw.  
  
(Later aboard the Seajaw)  
  
Sliceclaw was bent low behind the sides of the craft, testing his whip-blade on his striped claws. Peering out to the isle, he murmured to his crew, "Git yore weapons ready. I ain't sure iffen there beasts on that island, but if there ain't, listen to me."  
  
The rat with the cutlass was closest to the captain. He examined the rocks on the shore. "I dunno, Cap'n, but I swore I thought I saw a point of wood sticking out of the rock for a sekin."  
  
Sliceclaw gazed at the rocks. "Now Gurgi, you 'earken. Take about five beasts and go out there and scout out the rocks. 'Ey, Bluegung, take ten beasts and wade out into the water an' fight off anybeasts iffen there is and the rest of yore mates will come and help," instructed the pirate captain.  
  
"Aye aye, Cap'n!" replied Gurgi and Bluegung.  
  
(Later, with the fifteen crewmates of the Seajaw)  
  
"Right, mates, let's figire this un out. Er, Scobs, Sharkie, you go towards those big rocks and tell us wot you found. Grukle, you go with Yewer and find out wot's behind that patch o' trees," said Bluegung with a hint of nervousness. "I'm goin' with Scobs and Sharkie." He trotted off with the pair of stoats.  
  
Yewer, a short fox clad in mostly rags and tattoos adorning his body, looked around. "Well, we'd best be lookin around those trees. I don't see why landlubbers just stay on the land instead of the luverly sea."  
  
Grukle nodded. "Aye, mate. Trees, sand, it ain't fer us."  
  
Yewer stepped a pace closer to the trees- and was stopped short by a hurled lance. Yewer got one good look at his heart with the stick of wood in it- then collapsed.  
  
Grukle started shaking in fear of what might come out of the other rocks. He ran, but another javelin hit him in the back after four strides.  
  
A burly looking squirrel, nearly white in color with crimson eyes, chuckled quietly to himself. "There's two more seascum gone!"  
  
Ranguvar hefted another stick, this one more like a primitive club then anything else. "Aye, it's the last thing those jetsam of the waves with ever see!"  
  
(Over the rocks to where Scobs, Bluegung and Sharkie were)  
  
Sharkie plodded through the rocks, unaware that two of his crewmates had just been slain. "I don't see nothing 'ere, Scobs."  
  
Bluegung was checking a rather large limestone chunk. "Aye, nothin here either. Wot about youse, Scobs?"  
  
Scobs had picked up a tuft of fur, and was inspecting it. "This un is too shaggy to be stoat fur, and we're the only uns over here."  
  
Bluegung looked closer. "Looks like bushtail fur," he commented, and peered closer for a better look.  
  
A spear hurtled out of the rocks not far from the trio and hit Bluegung in the back. He went down, a lance pinned to his badly garbed back.  
  
"Wot in the Dark Gates name..." whispered Scobs to himself. He peered at the area where the weapon had come from. "Alright, come on out or we're gonna do it for ye!"  
  
A javelin whizzed out of the rocks and struck home in the stoat's neck. Another two went for the bemused Sharkie.  
  
The pair of squirrels, each clasping a pile of sharpened lances, slipped away to where the rest of their rough-and-ready army was.  
  
(End Chapter Three)  
  
A/N Whew that was long! About two more pages then what I usually do. Ah well.  
  
I'm leaving Silver Dollar City today! Branson, Missouri is nice, but I prefer home. I spent two days on this chapter. It's Friday, June 11, 2004, and I haven't been home in a whole week. I miss my cats. Okay, I know all this is irrelevant to everything, but how else am I supposed to tell anybody anything? Just ignore all my A/N's if you don't bother to read this.  
  
I still love my rocks though... Shadowsong loves to pet her rocks...What?  
  
Like I said earlier, this is defiantly going to be a four chapter story. See you next chapter! 


	4. Epilogue

A/N 'Ello! I still haven't left, I'm still writing on the same day as the last chapter, but will finish it off probably tomorrow.  
  
As you should know, this is the last chapter in this story, so I want to make it longer.  
  
Read on!  
  
(Begin Chapter Four)  
  
(On the ship Seajaw)  
  
Sliceclaw looked at the shoreline. He muttered to himself, "I don't see nothing- mebbe they ain't found anything and want us to come out." He couldn't see his crewmate's carcasses because the rocks hid them from view.  
  
A rat tugged on Sliceclaw's paw. "Do we go out now?" he asked.  
  
Sliceclaw nodded. "Aye. And keep a sharp eye out for Scobs and 'is gang!"  
  
The rat hung a rope on the side of the boat and shinnied down the side, clasping the rope in his grubby paws. Looking down, he let go and splashed into the shallows. All of the rest of the crew followed in pursuit.  
  
When all of the crew of the Seajaw had went down into the shore area, Sliceclaw pointed. "I wants 'arf of you that way, and the other 'arf that way. Move!"  
  
The crew obediently trotted off separate ways.  
  
(In the rocks)  
  
A brawny female squirrel with brownish gray fur grinned, showing fierce buckteeth. "Righto, mates, let's take two each!"  
  
The ignorant vermin had come near a patch of scattered rocks near the tree part of the island.  
  
"'Ey, mates, I don't see nothin here. Let's git back to Sliceclaw." A weasel was turning back when a huge rock hit him in the back of the neck. He slammed into the ground, never to rise.  
  
"Wot the... wot 'appened to ole Ringpaw?" The inquiring rat leaned forward. "Looks like somat 'it him in the neck..."  
  
An identical rock zipped out of the surrounding rocks and instead hit this rat in the stomach. He staggered backwards into the sand.  
  
The rest of the vermin started to back off, but one bold corsair searat picked up the rock and hurled it back into the area it came from.  
  
A spear thrummed in the air as it whooshed by and hit the rat with stunning accuracy. A second later, another rock whizzed by and whacked the same rat in the shin, even though he was already down.  
  
"Let's git out of here, mates!" cried a frightened stoat. They ran, but not far. A salvo of spears, rocks, and clubs came after them, silent messengers of death.  
  
(Where Sliceclaw Scarkisk was)  
  
Sliceclaw kicked aside a rock in his path. "I don't see anything 'ere, mates."  
  
Burckle, a fox armed with a slightly rusty sword, nodded. "Aye, captain. I don't even see pawtracks."  
  
A pair of dark eyes watched them from the trees. The eyes shifted, then silently slipped off.  
  
"Like I said, let's git some wood to repair our ship." Sliceclaw sighed. "Wished we found some beasts to enslave though..."  
  
"You've done all the enslaving you'll ever do!" Ranguvar Foeseeker leapt of the trees, brandishing a cutlass from the slain vermin. "Yaahhhhh!"  
  
The vermin fled in all directions, but Sliceclaw sped towards the trees, seeking shelter from the mad beast. Crashing through the trees, he slammed into a three-topped tree. His smash into the tree sent a little squirrel from inside the tree tumbling down, squeaking.  
  
Sliceclaw grinned- a helpless victim. He momentarily forgot about Ranguvar and pulled out his whip, whispering, "Here, likkle bushtail, heeere...."  
  
The squirrelbabe jumped forward and bit the ferret's paw.  
  
"Ouch! Yore gonna pay, shrimp!" He lashed out with the whip, catching the babe in the neck with the blade. She shrieked, and let go of the ferret's paw.  
  
"Ah ha!" he crowed, and flayed the squirrel again. The squirrelbabe shuddered for a moment- then collapsed, limp. Blood had covered her neck, and she was not breathing.  
  
"Sieka!" cried a voice from behind Sliceclaw. He swerved around, and saw the horrified black squirrel. "Die, vermin!"  
  
The face of the outraged squirrel, her crimson eyes, and a cutlass were the last things the captain of the Seajaw, Sliceclaw Scarkisk, ever saw.  
  
(A day later)  
  
"Ranguvar? Are you alright?" asked Sagueris timidly. He came up to the squirrel, placing a friendly paw on her shoulder.  
  
She looked up, tear rivulets streaming down her face. "Sieka was slain because I didn't come quick enough..."  
  
Sagueris patted the normally tough squirrel's brawny back. "Now, Ranguvar, she wasn't murdered because of you. She was slain because of that black-hearted vermin. But now he is at the Dark Gates, and cannot harm Sieka anymore. She is at the peaceful streams and high trees."  
  
Ranguvar stood up, dashing sand and grit from her cheeks. "You're right, Father. But any vermin that crosses my path will most certainly die. I'm the Foeseeker!"  
  
She strode off, towards the shore. She watched the briny with vegenence.  
  
"Come vermin. I am the Foeseeker, born in the moondark on a stormy night. I have no enimies, for they are all slain!"  
  
She continued speaking to the shore, daring the Sea Rogues to come.  
  
Sagueris watched the squirrel for a while, then turned back, shaking his head. One day, that squirrel will prove her fearlessness at the cost of her life, he thought. And when she does, I would be proud to be the warrior standing next to her!"  
  
(End Story)  
  
A/N I really liked this story, and wish it could of last longer. But the call of other stories beckons, like my next one. Here is a blurb for it-  
  
Zann Juskarath Taggerung! (Title might change)  
  
Summary: The Taggerung is swifter, stronger, and more skilled then anybeast in the Juska whole. What was he like before, at twelve seasons perhaps?  
  
It's rated PG for violence. Taggerung is my second favorite character, next to Ranguvar Foeseeker.  
  
I finally got home! I started typing when I got home about after an hour after really getting home. (Did that make any sense? Oh well....) Right about the part where Ranguvar comes out of the foliage.  
  
(Yawns) It is super early here... I saw the most picturesque sunset last night driving home. Er... that was random.  
  
Be sure to read my new story when it comes out! I may not publish it until a while, but I will try.  
  
See you next story! -Shadowsong CometShard StarGlaive 


End file.
